


come to me, my sweetest friend

by orphan_account, PoemIsDead



Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Control, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, Pet Names, Pining, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-25 06:43:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13828683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoemIsDead/pseuds/PoemIsDead
Summary: After a taste of the little glitch, Dark knew he was going to keep him. The question is, is Anti willing to be kept?





	1. can you feel my heart again

**Author's Note:**

> So Kate and I decided to try our hands at writing something together, and considering our obsessions, it was inevitable it was going to be Dark/Anti. We'll be writing strictly from our own perspectives, with Kate (watercolorwoods) writing Anti and me (PoemIsDead) writing Dark. No idea how this is going to go, but it's been damn fun writing it so far.
> 
> Not even going to pretend that this doesn't take some small inspiration from [Blessed With a Curse](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6817678/chapters/15562828) by the lovely GalaxyGhosty and Quintessentia, because I've read it far too many times to get it completely out of my head, and it's definitely a heavy source of my obsessive!Dark love. But it'll probably be heading in some . . . different directions >.>
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the lovely [tfwfangirlsatk](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tfwfangirlsatk) to the tune of [Control (Pitched/Male Version) by Halsey](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jcr3lW6lve8).

Mark was standing in the middle of his too-bright kitchen, spatula in one hand as he poked at sizzling bacon. The light played across the tan of his wrist as he worked, his honey voice bouncing around the kitchen as he rambled in that overly animated fashion of his. Like he was scared that if he didn't talk fast enough, someone was going to stop him. Like he no longer had the need to breathe, and getting the words trapped in his racing mind out of his lips was more important than his bodily functions.

He was speaking to someone. The boy probably. High voice and new boringly dark hair as opposed to his previous blue. Or maybe he was talking to the dark woman, short, glasses, unamused expression. It didn't matter. He wasn't looking at them, eyes fixed on his breakfast, and Dark hardly had the thought to spare on someone so unimportant just then.

Anti was coming.

That single fact filled Dark's every waking thought as he watched Mark go about his normal life from his inky loft, barely registering the man's mundane routine as his mind was filled with the glitch. How could he care about the smell of bacon, or the new game Mark was going to play, or the issue the blue kid was having with some editing software, when _Anti_ was coming. When _Anti_ was going to be here in a few days. When _Anti_ was going to be close enough to _touch_.

He hadn't seen Anti in person in five months to the day. And that was far too long a time to go without his hot, mismatched gaze, sharp tongue and sharper wit. He could feel the way Mark shuddered as the want ran through him, too loud, untamed, but he hardly cared just then.

Three days. Just _three little days_ and Anti would be here, in front of him. Three little days and he'd have him again. Mark would just have to understand if his excitement got a little . . . uncontrolled. He should be grateful Dark hadn't decided to go get the little creature himself.

The wait had been near impossible. Dark was nothing if not a patient creature, especially when he knew he was going to get what he wanted. But the agony of knowing of Jack's visit - knowing of it weeks beforehand, and having to just _wait_ , wait for the day to finally arrive, wait for Mark and Jack to carry on their normal, boring lives, wait to see his Anti again - it was like the sweetest misery.

It was unbearable. Life here was so . . . dull without him. Colorless. Ironic, considering just last year he hadn't even known the creature's name. But it was true, nonetheless. The little glitch had flickered into his life, giving him a taste of the static, the electricity, the pulsing energy running just beneath his lithe form, and Dark was hooked. He wanted it. And he _always_ got what he wanted.

He could still see him so clear, twisted up under him, mouth open in a needy wail as his greedy hands scored lines down Dark's back, his name dripping so sweet from his tongue-

_"Dark."_

His name was a plea in Mark's head, pained and shocked, and Dark could feel the little smile he gave the human, even here, in this place where he was nothing but raw power and thought. Mark was tuned enough to him to catch it easily, and he could feel the weariness in him, the way he shied away from the heady images reverberating through Dark like a heavy drum beat.

 _"Look away then,"_ he purred back, too caught up in his own excitement to find anything other than mirth at the man's uncomfortable reaction. He knew what Mark saw out of the pictures - his friend, his _male_ friend, his _strictly platonic_ male friend - driven mad under his own hands, even if it was Dark at the helm, even if it was Anti's mismatched eyes looking up at him. Enough to make any mortal uncomfortable, he was sure. _"It isn't yours, anyway."_

Another voice spoke in the kitchen, a male, and Dark let his focus on the outside drop as he relaxed back into the recesses of Mark's mind, comfortable, content, if a little over eager. Three days. It wasn't long to wait. So close. So close, and he'd have his virus in his hands again.

" . . . and Jack'll be here by then."

Dark focused mildly at the sound of his name, perking for only a moment as he listened to the mundane talk, but he caught the little rush of excitement that peaked through Mark.

_"Jack's coming to visit."_

Dark let the mirth roll through him again at that, and he tugged lazily at the thought, pulling the gentle warmth of Mark's being closer to the roiling blackness of his own, pushing against it with a mild pressure, feeling the way the man considered fighting him. The demon wasn't trying to take control. Only mingle, share, slow the strange pulses of their mind until they were in tandem.

 _"Anti's coming to visit,"_ Dark purred back, letting it wash over Mark like cloying scents in a bath, sticking to his skin, and the man shuddered as he tried to focus on his bacon, but didn't resist. His response was soft, not an argument, but an agreement from a different perspective.

_"Jack."_

_"Anti."_

Different names, but an acceptance of mutual excitement. Dark let the satisfaction wash over him, let it spill into Mark, dark but warm, before pulling back into his inky loft and tuning out the sounds of the conversation in the kitchen, returning to the void, and his eager, pounding black heart.

  


* * *

  


Three days. Nothing, a blip in time compared to the void's endlessness. And yet it felt like torture, like time was sinking sharp claws through the demon's soul and taking its time tearing him to shreds. Piece by piece, hour by hour, and the monotony of Mark's life had never been so painful as it was just then. Grating, like sandpaper across an open wound. Or a cat's tongue. Or his tongue. Over Anti's slit throat.

 _Fuck_ , time was not moving fast enough.

Dark was restless, agitated, excited. He was buzzing in Mark's head, a constant distraction, so different from the easy almost-camaraderie they had built over time, the tentative peace between them shattered by the frayed edges of Dark's eager soul. He had gotten into the habit of leaving Mark alone for hours, sometimes days, at a time, giving him peace and quiet and solitude in return for his acceptance. But now it was almost like it had been years ago, Dark's presence pressing harshly against Mark's, too loud, distracting, sprouting headaches and blackouts in his wake, and Mark's patience was worn and chafed.

 _"Dark, **please** ,"_ he begged the night before Jack's plane got in, his hand twisted harshly in his hair as he tangled himself in the sheets, trying to sleep around the demon's pounding excitement. _"Please, you get to see him tomorrow, just let me sleep."_

 _"My apologies, poppet,"_ Dark soothed, letting himself sink back, not withdrawing from Mark, but relaxing into him, like a salve across his battered nerves, trying to pacify the jittering. An apology, of sorts. He was not usually so . . . _wild_. And there was a certain shame in knowing that he was losing all his careful control over a glitchy little creature trapped in a loud Irishman.

But what a perfect little present he was, with those raving eyes, pitched voice, wiry frame. The way he spoke, tremulous, greedy, his words tumbling out odd and clipped in that mockery of an accent of his. It sounded so nice around his name, high, whining, as the muscles in those lean arms bunched under Dark's big hands, and he could still feel the way he'd wrapped his legs around him, eager and selfish, driving him closer as he held him against the table-

 _" **Dark** ,"_ Mark groaned, and Dark could feel as they slipped from their tandem, the human's shame and the demon's desire too at odds to allow them to share any longer, the arousal between them the only thing still holding the tentative connection. Dark resisted the urge to laugh, pushing back his amusement in favor of mollifying the tension building in his host.

 _"You could take care of that,"_ Dark crooned in a low murmur, feeling how his body strained, flushed, in need of . . . _relief_. Not mocking him, but offering. _"I'm sure we'd both sleep peacefully."_

 _"No,"_ Mark shot back, immediate and harsh. _"That's all yours. I'm not fucking touching it."_

Dark hummed back in answer, the metaphorical smile ghosting between them as the demon pulled back, releasing his hold on the outside world and slipping back to the quiet blackness. It wasn't perfect. He was still buzzing, giddy with excitement, and he'd left Mark a wreck. But they would both sleep eventually, the late hour taking them if nothing else. Dark wanted to conserve his energy, if at all possible. Mark had promised to let him in, promised him time, and he'd need the strength to hold it as long as hoped for.

 _"Anti's coming,"_ Dark all but whispered, to himself mostly, but Mark still heard. He gave him a tired kind of agreement, acknowledgment, a weak resistance of Jack's name, before he shut him out completely, and Dark willed himself into the void, closing everything off and searching for that oblivion.

A pair of mismatched eyes was his last conscious thought before he was gone, like a shadow chased from a spotlight.

  


* * *

  


Jack was . . . pretty enough, he supposed. Too small. Too _soft_. A little nervous and jittery, but in a sweet way that just left him fuzzy and insubstantial rather than sharp and unpredictable. He looked like a child, a teen, leaning against the column in the middle of the bustle of the airport, beanie tucked low over his eyes as he fiddled with his phone, and he only looked younger as his face split into a bright smile at the sight of his friend. Like a lightbulb in sunlight.

Dark wanted a forest fire.

He didn't waste the energy it took to pay attention to the boys' exchange, instead keeping only a tenuous hold on the outside world as Mark and Jack had their reunion, knowing he couldn't have anything while they were still in the airport. He was patient, good, leaving Mark be as he let the man catch up with his friend, let them hug and chatter, Jack's body too soft under his arm. He _behaved_ , silent as the grave, until the car door shut with a slam, and they were pulling away.

 _"Anti,"_ he purred, blooming from his dark haven like a flame in the night, filling the space in Mark's mind until he pressed flush against him, insistent and unavoidable. Alone, Anti so close, _so close_ after so many months, and he could already taste him on his tongue.

He was surprised to feel Mark press back, a flutter of panic in his chest as he gripped the wheel tighter, his voice stuttering in their worthless conversation. They were talking about _nothing_ , idle chatter, content on their own sides of the car, wasting time when Dark could be drinking in every inch of the glitch.

 _"Move,"_ Dark growled, low and dangerous, and he felt Mark's pulse quicken in their throat. But he didn't cave under the command. Only tightened their fingers and watched the road carefully as he pulled into the highway.

 _"Not yet,"_ he said, careful and soft, not a plea, but not a command either, and Dark paused, curiosity leaking through him as he waited. _"He just got here, Dark. Give him a minute to get settled at least."_

The demon considered, quiet as he held them still in their little battle, neither pulling back nor pushing forward. He'd gotten this far with Mark by instilling an illusion of control. Giving him the belief that it was a . . . partnership, of sorts. An agreement between them to settle and compromise. He could break Mark now if he wanted to. Rip him from his seat and shove him back into the blackness, take these hands as easily as one might rip a sword from the fingers of a dying man. If he wanted to, he could have what he wanted.

As it should be.

But doing so would mean breaking the trust they had built. The trust the human had for him, tentative though it may be. And it was _so much easier_ when Mark just behaved for him.

Besides, if he took control now, he'd have to drive them back to Mark's house. And driving was such a tedious task. He could wait a little longer, couldn't he? An hour or so to get back to the house. Nothing compared to the weeks he'd had to wait. An hour to keep Mark complacent. That was worth it, wasn't it?

The relief that washed through Mark as Dark pulled back was steeped in the sweet flavor of gratitude, and Dark brushed against him as he left, almost fondly, as one might pet a child. Mark had been so _difficult_ when he'd first invaded his flesh, but he was becoming easy to appease as time went on. Though, he supposed after all the torment he'd put him through, any small gesture would feel like a kindness.

It took them closer to two hours to get back to the house, but Dark repressed the agony of the wait. Having the virus's host here was settling, at least, enough of a balm to his ragged nerves that he could keep himself calm and collected as he waited patiently for his turn. He felt almost peaceful as they stepped into the house, like he was meditating instead of waiting, and simply uncrossed his metaphorical legs to rise as Jack threw his bags in the guest room and made his way towards the den.

 _"It's time, Mark,"_ Dark purred softly, relishing in the shudder that drew from his host. He could feel the hesitation in him, feel the way he _didn't want to_ , feel the way he wanted to fight and deny him the right to be near his friend.

But it wasn't his friend Dark was after. It was the glitching little creature trapped inside, the one with those pretty eyes and clever hands; the one who dug his fingers in his hair as he kissed him with a starving kind of hunger; the one who moaned so pretty, who dripped wicked promises from his gorgeous lips as Dark slammed into him over and over, who gripped him so sweet as he came apart beneath him.

Dark wanted Anti. And he wasn't about to be denied.

 _"Let me in, little dove,"_ Dark growled, sweet and low, as he spread through his body like a poison, no longer just pressing against him, but burying himself in the skin, taking himself as surely as floodwaters took a plain, and Mark was drowning in the demon, struggling to stay afloat, not fighting the current, only holding fast for the briefest of moments.

 _"Don't hurt him,"_ he whispered, fear and guilt in his voice until Dark covered him in his smothering presence, soothing the frayed edges of his twisted emotions until he slipped limp beneath him.

 _"I promise, Mark,"_ he told him simply. _"Now let me see Anti."_

Mark released his tenuous grasp, slipping away in silence, and Dark surged forward, feeling the muscles of his body flex sharply beneath his fresh control, chest expanding to take a breath of unfiltered air, and he was speaking before he’d even had the chance to enjoy his rush of freedom.

“Anti,” he crooned, his voice like warm velvet, and he watched as Jack froze, fingers burying themself in the back of the recliner, the sudden fear wafting off him like the sweetest perfume. He knew. He knew just from the one word, the pitch of Dark’s voice, the way he curled his lips around the name like he was caressing a fine wine. He knew Mark was gone. He knew he was alone with a demon.

Dark was prowling towards him, slow and predatory, a low sound in his throat as he got closer and closer to the boy’s form. His fingers were dug in harshly into the nice leather, the tips white from the pressure, and he could hear the way his breath was stuttering in his chest, not panicked, but afraid.

“Anti, love,” he urged, sweet and low as he made his way carefully around the rigid form, close, far too close to the boy’s warmth, and he watched the way he shuddered, watched the way his fingers dug in deeper into the dark leather even as he took a step back, pretty blue eyes bright with fear.

“Dark,” the boy all but whispered, begging, pleading with him. As if that could stop him. As if pretty words would be enough to protect him from Dark’s desire.

“Give him to me, Jack,” Dark purred, letting his voice drip low, but almost sweet, gentle, with only the barest hint of a threat beneath his dulcet tones. He was coming closer, carefully, never breaking eye contact as he fixated on the boy’s nervous face, the flashes of fear and anxiety and . . . frustration?

Was . . . was he fighting with Anti? Was he fighting with him, even now, restraining him, keeping him from the demon? Dark’s hands clenched dangerously at his side as he lowered his voice, darkening it by little shades as he got closer, close enough to touch, close enough to fan his breath across his skin.

“Give him to me. Give me Anti.” His voice was a command, low and crooning, but a command nonetheless, and he expected the child to follow it. He brought his hand up, slowly, carefully, ghosting his fingers past the boy’s soft face, over his cheek, past the shell of his ear, never quite touching, before he was pushing it into the soft leather of the chair behind him, effectively caging him in.

Jack’s eyes were bright, focused once more, breathing hitched high in his throat as Dark came impossibly closer, bringing them face to face, smiling a broken panther smile at him as he breathed out slowly. He smelled like soap, little hints of spice around the edges, and just the smallest tang of . . . vanilla? Too soft. Too delicate. Not his Anti.

The demon came close enough to brush their noses together, if he had the mind to. Close enough to feel the boy’s breath across his face. Close enough to see the spark in his eyes. So close - but not what he wanted. His breath shuddered out of him in a low sigh as he turned his face, leaning forward again until his lips were hovering next to the boy’s ear, breath fanning across it as he crooned to him.

“Give me my little glitch.”

He was honestly surprised the boy was still here, still holding out against him. Dark was not known for his . . . comforting presence. And Jack was not the most experienced of mortals. And _Anti_ was not the most patient of creatures. So the fact that he was still here, still defiant against two powerful beings was enough to perk his ire.

If the little creature wanted to play with fire, the void was willing to play.

Dark felt the boy tremble, felt him shiver in the warm air of the room, his breath stuttering out of him as Dark pressed impossibly closer, the fabric of Mark’s loose shirt ghosting across the child’s body. The demon turned his head, just a little, enough to speak directly against the curve of his ear, letting his lips curve up into a wicked smile to taint his words as he purred as low as this mortal voice would allow.

“Or would you rather take his place?”

A bluff. Of course. He had no interest in the soft little flicker, in his sparkling eyes and tender touch. He wanted fire and teeth and a tongue that could lash like a cat o’ nine tails. But to get to that pristine piece of broken porcelain, he needed the little lamb to crumble before him.

And crumble he did. Not like rubble falling from a decrepit building, like he had expected, but blowing out in shaky bits. First a giggle, high and unnatural, startling, not quite right - but close. Then the odd, stuttered breath. The air around him contracting, getting louder without sound, just the _impression_ of sound against his ears. And then he flickered to life, like a flame in the dark, sparking into existence in fits and starts, and the air smelled like static, and Dark was drinking it in like a dying man.

 _Anti_ , something inside him crooned, and he growled low in his throat, lips pulling back to broaden his smile as he closed his eyes, relishing the feel of the electric air dancing against his skin, and he was pressing forward to drink it all in on a much more . . . _personal_ level. His first taste in so long, and _god_ , he’d been so tired of waiting.

The hand on the chair had abandoned the warming leather to reach for his little glitch, to touch in the way he’d been unwilling to with his host, skin itching for the broken contact, and he was already huffing out a low sigh of relief, content, pleased to have him once more, and-

He was gone. A flash, and the jittering body was gone from his grasp, before he’d even gotten his first taste of that pale skin, flickering to his other side, and Dark was groaning, rolling his eyes at the virus’s antics. Cute, but he’d been patient up to this point, and he was unwilling to play his little games just then. Let him have his fill, and then the pretty little twitch could enjoy his freedom.

“Anti,” he purred, his voice low and pleased, only a hint of a threat hidden in his timbre as he turned back towards the creature, hand reaching out for his pretty little face, for his shock of bleach-rough hair, to yank him into reach. “Let’s not play games, doll.”

Anti’s hand was a flickering blur as it whipped out to catch the demon’s wrist, grip harsh, twisting, unrelenting, and Dark had only a moment to comprehend the black eyes, cold and angry, before he was being yanked forward, bending from the pressure, too surprised to stop the glitch as he dragged him forward, knife flashing between them.

Dark could only watch, staggered, astounded, as the creature’s lips pulled up to spit his first words.

"Touch me, and I'll have ta carve those pretty little fingertips off t’at gorgeous hand a’yers.”


	2. you're all over me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the lovely [tfwfangirlsatk](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tfwfangirlsatk) to the tune of [LoveGame by Lady Gaga](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1mB0tP1I-14).

“ _ Anti.” _

 

The Irish lilt blanketed the glitch, and it was pitchy with panic. Anti opened his eyes, a smirk splitting his face at the utter  _ desperation  _ that consumed Jack. It was pathetic. Anti almost let himself laugh, because it was so amusing that the host was actually coming to its virus. For help, for comfort, for advice?  _ Who knew. _ It was just  _ hilarious,  _ and Anti really did allow himself to relish in the feeling. He let it roll over him and drown him, because it only strengthened his own being, his own  _ existence. _

 

“ _Anti, yeh fockin’ idiot,”_ Jack’s voice was sharp now, echoing across the emptiness of the room, like butter over burnt toast. _“I can hear everythin’ yer thinkin’. Now can yeh pay attention fer a damn_ ** _second_** _to what’s goin’ on in_ ** _real_** _life?”_

 

A tiny frown graced Anti’s features for a heartbeat just before he curled his lip. Reluctantly, he pulled himself to full attention, focusing on the scene outside, looking through Jack’s eyes at the world around them. He expected something stupid, like a giant lizard dominating the world, or maybe a video game Jack couldn’t beat. But  _ God,  _ were his assumptions underwhelming and idiotic compared to the  _ real _ image he was greeted with.

 

Darkiplier. Dark. The damn douche he’d. . . oh. Oh yeah, he  _ had  _ done that, hadn’t he? Managing to discreetly shut Jack out- thankfully, his host didn’t try to fight his way into Anti’s thoughts- he reminisced, just for a moment, of the night they’d spent together. Honestly, he’d forgotten about it; it wasn’t exactly an  _ uncommon _ thing for him to have a little fun when he gained control over their body. After all, Jack wasn’t unattractive, and Anti wasn’t hesitant to admit that to himself or to anyone, since Jack’s face was more or less his. Dark had been nothing special among all the  _ other  _ men he’d hooked up with. Only. . . that wasn’t  _ completely _ accurate, was it? Dark was more like Anti than any of the. . . well. . .  _ mortals  _ that he had been with, so he was different with at least  _ that _ aspect.

 

Anti wasn’t one to grow attached. Not to people, not to things, not to feelings. One night stands were his thing, and he was perfectly content with this. But even he, a generally empty and reserved person, had to admit that it’d been a. . .  _ nice _ night. How he’d allowed himself to be utterly dominated and wrecked; it was a very good memory, now that he was giving himself time to actually  _ address _ it. It came back to him: Dark’s lust-stricken face, and his voice, oh  _ God,  _ his voice. It did things to him, even now, as he just  _ thought  _ about it.

 

Certain sentences and phrases, and the way they were spoken, accompanied with dark, hooded eyes, flooded him in quick succession.

 

_ “Scream for me, baby boy.”  _

 

_ “You look so pretty. Such a mess. Just for me. . .” _

 

And all the pet names, coupled with the way Dark’s tongue seemed to curl around each and every one, sprinkling it with just the perfect amount of attention and dedication. . . they gave him this feeling, like he was  _ wanted.  _ It really did mean a lot, he guessed, but he couldn’t dedicate himself to anyone. He wasn’t going to be tied down by another person. To Anti, having sex with someone and being romantically interested in them were two very different things. 

 

Dark, however, didn’t seem to agree, as he was sort of. . . maybe. . . a little bit... cornering Jack, and Anti didn’t miss the faint plea from Jack for Dark to leave him alone. He found himself nearly laughing again- what did Jack expect to get from  _ that _ ?- but once again held it back. There was no point, even if he was genuinely enjoying the display.

 

_ “Yeh realize ‘M just gettin’ front row seats ta what looks like a wonderful movie, yeah?”  _ Anti drawled, a smirk on his thin features. 

 

He felt the frustration that surged through Jack then, and this time, he didn’t hold back his high pitched giggle of adoration at the feeling of Jack’s anger.   
  
_ “Just take care a’him!”  _ Jack snarled, his vexation fueled by fear.  _ “He wants  _ **_you,_ ** _ and I don’t know what the  _ **_fock_ ** _ it is that yeh did  _ **_this_ ** _ time, but ‘m not takin’ the fallout fer it. Handle. Him. You started this, and yer gonna end it. I’d ask what the hell ye did ta get him so obsessed with you, but ye know what? I don’t care. I don’t give two shits-” _

 

Anti rolled his eyes, unwavered and unamused by Jack’s words.  _ “Okay, can yeh just shut the fock up while I listen ta him fer a second?” _

 

A flash of silence nestled between the two. __   
_   
_ __ “Even yer thoughts glitch.”  Jack finally answered, his voice a grumble.

 

Cue another eye roll from Anti. In retitence this time, he let himself immerse in what was happening with Dark and Jack. This was some popcorn worthy shit, too. It. . . it  _ had  _ been. It really had been, up until the first words he'd heard from Dark since he'd left him that tense morning filled his ears.

 

“Give him to me, Jack.”

 

Low, and smooth. The demand was so gentle and warm, and yet Anti could sense the looming threat behind the words. Something twinged in his stomach at the way Dark referred to him like he was object, like he belonged to him. 

 

Anti grinned to himself, feeling the way Jack’s body tensed up. If he wanted to, he could take over this body. He practically heard Jack begging him to, begging him to get the situation under control, despite the quietude they were settled in. It was hilarious, because everyone wanted Anti right now.

 

He wasn't going to deliver himself to them, either. He'd much rather be the cause of chaos, suffering, and frustration, because he  _ savored _ that. If it went too far,  _ maybe _ he'd come out of hiding, give everyone what they wanted.  _ Maybe _ . 

 

Anti didn't like following orders, not even when they came from men whom he had previously fucked that were extremely powerful and visibly pissed at not getting what they wanted. That entire aspect thrilled Anti five times more. He loved disobeying. The electricity crackled inside of him, steady and encouraging, egging on his erratic breath. He was so excited. Fucking with people was so much fun. 

 

_ “Anti, please.” _

 

The glitch let out another giggle.  _ “‘M sorry, did ye say somethin’? I couldn’ hear yeh over yer terror!” _ He was in a cocoon of psychotic  _ hilarity,  _ and he wasn’t sorry for it either. 

 

_ “Yer sick, Anti. Fockin’ sick.” _

 

This was no news, nor did Anti give a damn. He just clicked his tongue, watching the scene unfold before his eyes with a little grin on his face. It was a work of art, really; watching his host cower before Dark, only to turn to Anti- his own demon and  _ easily  _ the bane of his very existence- for help.  _ Hysterical. _

 

_ “Anti, yeh fockin’ idiot! At least  _ **_shut me out_ ** _ when ye shite talk me!” _

 

He relished in the little pitch Jack’s voice had from his frustration and annoyance.  _ He  _ was the cause of that. . . it was fucking gorgeous, and he only wanted to keep it up, even as Dark’s voice rumbled through Jack’s ears- and, in turn, Anti’s- and contaminated Anti’s mind with barely tucked away memories. The dam was poorly built and the water was rushing far too quickly.

 

“Give him to me. Give me Anti.”

 

It was so weird, hearing his  _ actual  _ name out of Dark’s mouth. So foreign and new, and he couldn’t pinpoint how it made him feel. At least, not  _ yet,  _ anyway. Yet - a word used in the assumption that this was going somewhere, and knowing himself? Hell yeah, it was going somewhere. This was the perfect fodder for destruction, tantalizingly close,  _ right before his eyes, _ so close he could  _ feel it.  _ God, did he want to take this shot. He wanted to take it more than  _ anything _ , because this could only go somewhere  _ good. _ For  _ him,  _ anyway; somewhere good for _ him. _

 

But he didn’t care about anyone else. A win for him was a win for him. As long as it benefitted him, he’d  _ possibly _ look into doing something for others. Who was he to deny opportunity when it came knocking on his door, tucked in a pretty little basket on his doorstep, tagged in bold letters that read his name?

 

Anti half expected Jack to make a snarky remark in response, but he was greeted with nothing, which genuinely irritated him. He felt it surge through his body, a rush of electricity accompanied with a burst of pride from Jack. The little bitch was proud of himself for pissing Anti off, and he’d be damned if it didn’t try his (already nonexistent) patience. 

 

_ There’s no  _ time  _ for this, Anti. Focus, focus, focus. How can you fuck over all the assholes involved in this situation, literally and figuratively? _

 

_ “That’s me friend’s  _ **_demon_ ** _ yer thinkin’ about havin’ fockin’ buttsex with!” _

 

He didn’t even try to stop the snort that escaped him, because that was the  _ epitome _ of irony. He refrained from bringing this up, though; Jack didn’t know, and Jack would  _ never  _ know. Anti felt Jack’s chagrin over the fact that he was so in the dark about what was going on. The virus felt a little better about himself.

 

Jack stiffened an impossible amount when Dark’s breath grew close enough to actually be felt. 

 

_ “I dunno, Jack. Maybe ye should listen ta him. Maybe ye should give me to him. . .”  _ He taunted, knowing damn well how angry that would make Jack because-

 

_ “It is  _ **_not_ ** _ that fockin’ easy and ye know it, so shut the fock up and don’t be a dick fer once! God, Christ, help me, literally anythin’ else could’ve taken over me mind,  _ **_anythin_ ** **’** _...” _

 

Ahh, there it was. The “it’s not that easy!” spiel. Anti figured Jack would eventually understand that he damn well knew just how hard this was, and that he only says most of this shit to fuck with him, but apparently not. It wasn’t Anti’s problem, so whatever. 

 

Time seemed to be moving four times slower while Anti was trapped up here, staring out of Jack’s eyes at the man that he  _ knew  _ held the key to all his desires. Dark was the perfect weapon for madness: easy to captivate, and easy to control - even if it wasn’t through anything obvious. Technically, Anti was doing it right now, as he sat in the crevices of Jack’s mind, tucked away, enjoying the chaos he was accidentally causing but intentionally goading.

 

He didn’t even  _ flinch  _ when Dark’s breath ghosted over Jack’s ear, cool, but still faintly carrying its distinct smell of a bonfire on a crisp fall evening. It was slow, heavy, like it was dragged out for the sole purpose of torturing the poor soul that had to sit through it.

 

“Give me my little glitch.”

 

Conflicted. That was the only way he could describe his opinion about that statement, because  _ God  _ did it enrage him, but Dark’s possessiveness was just as prominent as ever, and he wished that this fact wasn’t arousing. Anti didn’t know if it was Jack who shuddered, or if it was he himself, but maybe it didn’t matter. It happened anyway, and he was fairly certain that it was obvious to the demon on the outside, too. 

 

Anti was so close to just. . . quitting. Sort of. Not actually  _ quitting _ , just kind of giving himself up instead of delaying the inevitable. He’d have to confront Dark at some point, so why not do it now? But at the same time. . . this was fun. He was having fun -this was his idea of amusement.

 

Wow, it really was easy to sway Anti to do shit. Maybe he inherited it from Jack, the naive little  _ bitch.  _

 

He swallowed his mixed feelings on the situation, because he wasn’t going to let Jack get out of this. He had to watch Jack suffer, just for a little longer, because it really  _ was  _ the best performance he could ask for. Hell, he’d even give this a standing ovation. A standing “O.”

 

_ Anti, don’t let your mind go there, you fucking child. _ __   
__   
Anti was tragically terrible at preparing himself for things, because he was set on staying tucked away a while longer, he really was, but when Dark spoke again, he couldn't have been less prepared.

 

“Or would you rather take his place?”

 

Oh. Hell. No.  _ No.  _ No way. No way in  _ hell  _ did he just hear that. It was a. . . known fact that Anti was quick to anger.  _ Extremely  _ quick to anger. But he was still a little taken aback by how quickly his mood changed from cold hard determination to pure anger and jealousy.

 

Jack already co-existed with him, co-owned his body, constantly breached his thoughts and feelings. The  _ stupid _ little privileged _ mortal  _ wasn't about to take this from Anti too. Not if he could help it.

 

He felt the power build inside of him, forming him, and he knew that Jack had intended to emit a noise of terror and discomfort, but Anti didn't let that happen.  _ Anti  _ only allowed a tiny giggle, a lot like his own, and he wondered if Dark would take it has an announcement for his presence. He wondered if Dark remembered his laugh. It was pretty easy to remember, and Anti figured he'd be disappointed if the demon didn't. 

 

He felt his own being expand like a shock wave and, before he knew it, he was wiggling fingers that hardly felt foreign, the feeling of cool leather pressing against his covered back. It felt like freedom, or power, or fate, or  _ triumph.  _ It felt like  _ home. _

 

Anti grinned, closing his eyes for a few seconds to get rid of the sort of static sound he could hear. It happened because he was almost always surrounded by the sound, aside from when he was almost a figment of Jack's mind. When he'd gain control, it took him a second to get used to his physical form.

 

Then his eyes fluttered open, two wide, mismatched orbs filled with giddiness and sheer victory. He took a minute to feel his arms, still tingly and a little alien, and then his hands shifted to his throat, where he was greeted with blood seeping from the slit there. It coated his fingers, and he let out a happy sigh. He'd missed blood. He'd missed his physical form.

 

A quick brush of the shell of his ear told him it was pointy, just like normal. 

 

The temporary aftertaste of taking control subsided, and he was reminded of his genuine anger and upset. He nearly slapped the fucker in front of him, just because he could. 

 

But that was stupid. Unnecessary. So many better things he could- and  _ should- _ be up to. . .

 

His body flickered, and when he looked down, he couldn't see himself. And then there was utter nothingness, only for a split second, as he glitched to the other side of Dark. He wondered what he should say. ‘Hey, the sex was pretty great, you needed me?’ 

 

Straight forward. Not his style. He was also feeling fortunate that Jack was tucked away now, cowering back so he didn't have to think of any of the shit going on outside of where his being resided. 

 

He felt his hand tremble just barely as his knife materialized, hanging in the air lazily until his hand wrapped around the black handle. That sense of familiarity wrapped around him, and he could feel his electric aura building with his excitement. All the possibilities, all the things he could do. . .

 

He twisted the tip of his knife gently against the pad of his index finger for a few moments before resting the flat of the blade on the tips of his digits, thumb pressed onto the opposite side. He rotated it, twisting it to admire it. Anti had missed his knife; it was almost a lover to him. It was worth more to him than his freedom. 

 

Anti's eyes- flickering from his mixed colors to pure black- traveled back to Dark, ever so slowly, his right hand still wrapped around the handle of the knife and the left gently bearing the blade. He was unmoving, entirely still, fixed completely on Dark's face. He was annoyed, and Anti could see it. He almost smiled, but any trace of amusement vanished when Dark spoke and began to reach toward him. 

 

“Anti,” Just the name, in that deep, rumbling voice of his, intoxicating Anti for just a moment. Only a heartbeat, and he narrowed his gaze at the hand that reached for him. “Let's not play games, doll.”

 

Charming, but no.

 

Anti didn't think before his left hand flew from his blade, catching Dark's wrist in a tight grip. He pointed the blade of his knife at Dark, pulling him forward only a little, snarling in his pitchy, unsteady, and mocking voice, "Touch me, and I'll have ta carve those pretty little fingertips off t’at gorgeous hand a’yers.”

 

A sense of pride fluttered in his chest at how utterly  _ shell shocked  _ Dark was. His mouth hung open, ever so slightly, and for once, the demon was speechless. Wordless, looking like a lost fucking  _ puppy _ .  _ God _ did Anti feel  _ truly _ powerful right now.

 

He tossed Dark's wrist downward, withdrawing his knife to bring it close to him. He took a few rigid steps backward, the black in his gaze overcome by blue and green once more. He was buzzing, his giddiness subduing him into a state of bliss. His tongue darted out to trace his lips, taking his time with it, before be flashed a sharp toothed grin.

 

Anti was laughing, loud and broken, pitched at an inhumanely high level, surrounding his mind and his body and everything around him like a bundle of psychopathic manic. 

 

He'd long since stopped, but still yet, his laugh echoed across the room, never ending. He reveled in it.

 

He found himself rambling, enjoying the sound of his own voice backtracking and replaying and lagging behind his mouth movements. “So long I've waited fer that damn  _ mortal  _ ta give up. So  _ fockin’ long,  _ and ‘ere I am!” He laughed, long and high, his gaze fixated on Dark and his hands waving with his words, the knife pointing at himself and then gesturing around the room. “Here I fockin’ am, Dark. ‘M  _ right here, _ ” he listened to his own voice hanging back, distorting halfway through the word “right” before correcting itself. 

 

“And it's so  _ easy _ ,” Anti purred, letting his right arm hang free and his left arm drop with it, digits closing around the blade. The metal dug into his skin, and his tongue wet his lips again, slipping back into his mouth only to delineate his pointed teeth. “It's  _ so fockin’ easy  _ ta win, even wit’out meanin’ ta. But ye know that, don't yeh, Dark?” Anti prompted, his eyes bright and his head tilted almost tauntingly. 

 

Anti's gaze was unflinching as a smile infected Dark's features, those arms of his pulled behind him to conjoin his hands against his back. He listened as his deep, slow, predatory voice dripped out, seeping into Anti in all the right ways, his head tilting to the side ever so slightly. 

 

“I do.”

 

The virus didn't move, his expression unwavering and his stance steel, even as Dark took an easy, smooth step forward -not threatening, just assertive. Still, he was inanimate, just watching as Dark's dusky, clandestine eyes consumed Anti's body, hungry and possessive. Actually, he found that the corners of his mouth were slowly upturning even further to extend his small smile.

 

“I also know,” Dark's voice was his plodding, lead-footed, heavy growl. “How good you look freed from his grip, little killer.”

 

It was a tame pet name compared to some of Dark's favorites, Anti noted. He wondered what that really meant. His vice-like hold on the blade of his knife loosened, and he was toying with it, twisting it against his finger again. All too ready to fuck with the demon, he feigned sheepishness, casting his gaze to the side and shifting his weight from foot to foot. Still fiddling with his blade, he stuttered mockingly, “R-really?”

 

Dark's smile was a little strained now, but his voice remained at its deep rumble. “Of course, my pretty pet.”

 

One of Anti's eyebrows shot up, and he smirked, letting his eyes wander Dark once more. He bit his lip instinctively, but he didn't care that it'd happened, even if it  _ was  _ unintentional. “Ye aren't so bad yerself. But I t'ink we're both. . .” his voice dropped an octave, his head tilted just a pinch. “ _ Educated  _ when it comes ta this, mhm?”

 

Anti's voice was as chaffing as ever. His left hand abandoned his knife, retreating into his pocket. He stared down at the blade, tilting it back and forth with a smile on his lips; his mind was racing, a million thoughts thrown at him a second by and he could only pick a few of them out. None of them contained good plans of action, so it looked like Anti was winging it.

 

Jack's voice spread over his mind, sharp and annoyed.  _ “Jus’ how fockin’ long d’yeh think ye’ll have control?” _

 

Frustration bloomed in Anti's chest, spreading through him like growing weeds. The grip on his knife tightened, tinging his knuckles with white. He could feel his body glitching back and forth rapidly, a feeling he'd grown used to. Anti felt his figure crackle in his anger as he responded with a sharp tone,  _ “However long I fockin’ want it,  _ **_Jack._ ** _ Yer body is weak. I can do what I want with it.” _

 

Unexpectedly, Anti's demanding tone was greeted with silence, and he nearly sighed in relief.  _ “Jack, things would be a lot easier if ye would jus’ let me  _ **_‘ave my way_ ** _. . .” _

 

His thought trailed off, along with his interest in the conversation. He focused back in on Dark, falling into an upset sort of silence. The demon's head was tipped to one side, a patient little smile playing on his lips as he watched Anti's internal struggle.

 

“You're. . . fighting with him, aren't you? Your host,” Dark hummed, taking another step forward, more confident this time. “I can. . . make him go away.”

 

Intrigue flashed across Anti’s features, and his giddy high had restored itself. “Make him go away. . ? Specify, Darky.” He purred, casting a side glance toward him before turning and pacing back and forth. “I want ta hear  _ exactly  _ how yeh plan on fixin’ me issues with him.” He paused, surveilling the tip of his knife again, a heavy silence dropping over the two of them.

 

His scrutiny shifted back to Dark, and he felt the unstable grin spread across his face, inviting and curious. Anti was extremely aware of the way his own tongue put a strange amount of care into each and every word, even the least important ones. He indulged himself in the jump of his throat every time the pitch of his voice changed.

 

Anti hoped, with every fiber of his own glitchy being, that Dark would give in. He didn't expect it to be hard to do; after all, the demon was pretty damn easy to get a hold of. Of course. . . maybe that was just a thing Anti could do. Maybe Dark was only so easy in  _ his _ hands. 

 

He didn't think he really liked how that made him feel, mostly because he didn't at all understand it.

 

_ Don't drift again. _

 

His eyes, dark with lust, locked with the demon's. Maybe he wanted this more than he'd willingly admit. Maybe, just maybe, this was for him, and he knew it but couldn't bear the thought.

 

“Do you now?”

 

Anti's eyes just searched Dark's face as that damn smile twisted onto his features, so inclusive and private and  _ gorgeous.  _ He was so caught up in his observing that he nearly missed Dark's actual words.  _ Almost. _

 

“I'm sure he'd like to hear that. All our. . .  _ options.  _ What would you like to do first, Anti?” 

 

An invitation, and one that Anti silently accepted, waiting for his. . . choices. Anti could play. He was nothing if not a good playmate. Or rather. . . a toy, for some. Unashamedly, this category included the man in front of him.

 

Anti welcomed him when he took his slow, vulturous step forward, maybe even a little too hastily, but he wasn't thinking too much. Not right now, not when Anti could  _ feel _ Dark's emanation engulfing him,  _ swallowing  _ him, and why was that such a wonderful feeling?

 

It really  _ had _ been awhile since he'd really had this; not necessarily  _ Dark,  _ but just anyone at all. Jack was lonely, so Anti got lonely. 

 

"We could fight. Test our strength, let the demon out. Relish in the pain and brutality.” The words were accompanied with another steady pace forward, planned and sure. He was close enough now that their respective atmospheres almost  _ clashed _ , overlapping one another, and Anti expected a reaction of sorts from the close proximity, but it was almost as if they conformed to fit themselves together, hand in hand.

 

"We could  _ hunt _ . Fly into the night like the monsters we are. Find something to tear apart that won't break too quickly. . .” Anti relished in the sadistic smile that stretched Dark's lips, and he found himself smirking, almost like a conversation without words. He didn't feel the slightest bit threatened by the next shift forwards, even though it was close enough for Dark to touch him. “...feel bones snap and crumble under our own hands, remember how it feels to paint a masterpiece in blood."

 

Another wonderful idea, but not what Anti had in mind for now. He fiddled with his knife as Dark circled him like meek prey, close enough to almost, just  _ barely _ , graze their bodies together. 

 

His own hesitant hand stilled on his knife, his breathing deepening and the electricity that crackled against his skin doubling when Dark's fingers traced a line along the waistband of Anti's jeans. The cool fingers halted when he was behind Anti, taking their sweet, sweet time as they buried themselves into his hip. Dark's breath was obvious over the shell of his ear as the demon pulled him closer, and now they  _ were  _ touching, albeit just a little. 

 

"Or I could fuck you into the couch until you're screaming my name."

 

_ There _ it was. 

 

The hand tightened its grip, a delicious ache thrumming throughout Anti's body at how hard he was pressing his fingers, biting into his skin in such a pleasing way. 

 

He giggled, breathy, when Dark's other hand came to ghost against the nape of his neck, soft and gentle. A stark contrast when related to the vice-like hold the demon had on his hip, Anti thought. 

 

"Bend you over and open you up until you're  _ begging _ for it,” Dark growled lowly into Anti's ear, not as a request or a demand, but as a  _ promise. _ “Wrap my hand around your throat to trap your screams as I sink my cock into you, until you can't see anymore, until you're my mindless cocksleeve, choking and moaning so sweet for me as I fuck your brains out."

 

Anti's tongue escaped his mouth, almost lolling out from his lips, and he whimpered, high in his throat. His knife clattered to the floor, and he moaned, high pitched and loud, when Dark's hand slid into his wild hair, grabbing a fistful of it and yanking his head back. The slit in his throat stretched uncomfortably with the sudden change, stinging just enough to make Anti's throat constrict and his mouth go dry.

 

That husky voice resonated in his ear, sinful and excited. “How's that, sweetheart?”

 

Anti gasped, tongue still hanging from his mouth and his eyes squeezed tightly shut. His voice was glitchy and staticky, his tongue barely cooperating with him. “That's. . . f-fockin’ amazin’,  _ Daddy. _ ”

 

He hardly managed the words, and they were strained and weak. Anti elicited a discordant noise of mingled pain and pleasure when Dark gave his hair a sharp yank, paired with a deep growl. 

 

_ Fuck. _

 

Anti was panting gently at this point, stumbling backward to press himself as close to Dark as possible.

 

He could feel Jack's discomfort and disgust, settled into his gut, squiggling there in a way that was  _ just _ noticeable. He found himself picturing Jack slamming that mental door that separated their thoughts, and he was perfectly fine with that. 

 

His mixed eyes fluttered open, a sly, shaky grin on his face. Anti's breathing came in shallow pants for a couple more seconds until it mellowed out a little. He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing along his throat. 

 

Anti found himself whispering lowly, his voice breaking just a little, “W-What's wrong, Daddy? Am I bein’ a  _ bad boy? _ ”

 

This was  _ fucking funny.  _ He knew how Dark was with that word, which was genuinely the only reason he was actually using it in the first place. He  _ knew _ he'd get a rise out of the demon by saying it, and get a rise out of him he did.

 

Another irritated snarl broke his thought process. “Obviously, there are better uses for your mouth than your attempts at dirty talk.”

 

Anti felt one of his thick eyebrows shift upward, creasing his forehead. “Mhm. . . like. . . food. We can head ta the kitchen, grab somethin’ ta eat. ‘M famished.” His eyes held a playful glint, a grin splitting his face. Almost excitedly, he glitched out of Dark's hold, purring under his breath, just loud enough for Dark to hear it, “Lead the way. This s’yer home, after all.”


End file.
